57 pages • 1 hour read
Laurence YepA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Though their function is simplistic, ribbons—or the satin laces with which Robin fastens her pointe shoes—carry an almost superstitious importance. When buying new shoes, for instance, it’s customary to reuse the old ribbons, in the interest of preserving tradition: “new shoes need old ribbons” (86), Madame stresses, as Robin’s friend Amy graduates to the advanced classes. Here, ribbons represent the past, and in fastening them to new shoes, a dancer retains the sweat and tears of previous experience. Fittingly, as the novel continues, ribbons figure prominently in moments of intergenerational understanding. For instance, as Robin assures Grandmother that she isn’t a victim of footbinding, she mentions ribbons to better frame her argument: “My satin ribbons aren’t like your old silk ones. I use them to tie my shoes on” (115). Here, ribbons help Robin and Grandmother reconcile their generational differences, emphasizing Bridging Generational Divides through Empathy, and offer a meaningful throughline between past and present. Going forward, Robin and Grandmother’s relationship deepens, and just as new ballet shoes need old ribbons, so too does Robin benefit from Grandmother’s wisdom.
Ribbons appear again not long before the novel’s close, when Grandmother reveals her plan to move in with Uncle Eddy. Robin, admitting that she doesn’t “want her to leave” (170), worries that their closeness might suffer. To reaffirm the strength of their connection, Laurence Yep crafts a touching scene, centered meaningfully around ribbons: Grandmother, guided by Mom, sews ribbons onto Robin’s new shoes. Robin watches Grandmother work, and she suddenly appreciates that “her wrist was small—just like mine. And just like Mother’s” (178). Just like her new shoes, Robin has inherited the traits of an older generation. As Yep closes the novel with this motif, he optimistically suggests that Robin, Grandmother, and Mom will always be together.
“The Dance of the Butterfly” is the accompanying music to Robin’s solo performance as the Morning Butterfly in the class production of The Nutcracker. This solo—greeted by thunderous applause—is Robin’s last triumph before she’s forced to quit ballet lessons, changing her life completely. When “The Dance of the Butterfly” reappears in the text, it symbolizes the extent of Robin’s journey and the distance from her old, naive self. For instance, Robin hears the music again for the first time when she’s practicing with Amy, Leah, and Thomas. Much to Robin’s surprise, Amy reveals that she’s been cast as the Morning Butterfly in this year’s production, and Robin, tellingly, feels like “someone who had just missed a train—except this train was life” (87). As Robin hears the song, generously offering to teach Amy the steps, she realizes again how much she’s missed: “To my chagrin, I saw that there were now movements when Amy was smoother and better than I was” (88-89). Though the song had once marked a moment of success, now, after months of sacrifice, it symbolizes just how significantly Robin has changed. Yep reinforces this meaning later in the novel too, as Robin watches Dad’s recording of her recital. As the music starts, and Robin’s solo begins, Robin characterizes her old self as a “stranger” (122), seen from a remote world. Ultimately, “The Dance of the Butterfly” is an existential reminder of Robin’s old life, before sacrifice, hardship, and suffering transformed her completely.
Realizing that Robin has discovered her condition, Grandmother joins Robin and Ian in their room. At first, the tension between Robin and Grandmother is palpable: Grandmother hesitates in the doorway and refuses to “meet [Robin’s] eyes” (113). Ian, oblivious, asks for a story, selecting an “old collection of fairy tales by Hans Christian Andersen” that opens immediately to Robin’s favorite story, “The Little Mermaid” (114). The original fairy tale follows a young mermaid as she yearns for a life on land. The mermaid bargains with a sea witch and drinks a magical potion, transforming her tail into legs. Ultimately, though each step is painful, the mermaid commits to this new freedom. As Robin and Grandmother read the story, they draw parallels to Grandmother’s life: Grandmother, like the mermaid, was bound, until she freed herself in exchange for a lifetime of pain. This connection ultimately allows Robin and Grandmother to bridge the awkwardness and address Robin’s discovery. “I couldn’t help looking up at Grandmother,” Robin admits, “wanting to let her know I now understood” (115). As Robin and Grandmother speak directly about Grandmother’s experience, inspired by the bravery of the Little Mermaid, Yep symbolically suggests the power of art to encourage meaningful connection; only through art, it seems, are Robin and Grandmother empowered to speak frankly. Yep reinforces this symbol later in the novel, too, as Robin argues against her operation. Grandmother comes to understand Robin, realizing, “[Y]ou choose to walk on knives. For what you love—like the Little Mermaid” (164). Again, art, in its relevance to daily life, communicates where words might otherwise fail. This symbolism extends similarly to other forms of art as well. Madame, for instance, insists that dance “is like a language” and that the “steps are like words” (147), fostering connection outside of conventional communication. Art, in all aspects, is a medium of understanding.
By Laurence Yep